Trust Me
by Keelia Ann
Summary: A angsty story about Severus Snape. He is good and feels great guilt about killing Dumbledore. It's very dark, full of sad feelings. Whatever. Enjoy and rate.


Trust Me

Pairing: Severus Snape/Remus Lupin, though not romantically

Rating: T

Genre: Angst

Summery: I am a strong Snape supporter, and I made this so people can understand Snape better like I do. He is not just some slimy Voldemort supporter; he is a mentally and emotionally scarred man trying to do what is right when he was never taught what was right because of his childhood. Enjoy the fiction, please review. Thanks!

Chapter 1, Guilt

Severus rocked back and forth, back and forth, on the bed Voldemort had given him, clutching his head. Four words went through his head repeatedly: What have I done? What have I done?

All last year, as he slowly came to terms with the task he had to do for he knew it had to be done. He needed to live, to gain the Dark Lord's trust; and while he would play a big part in the ultimate destruction of Voldemort, Albus was quickly losing his uses for the Order. Everyone knew it; even Albus accepted it. Albus actually told him the reasons to get Severus to do it.

Voldemort did not fear Albus anymore. The Dark Lord considered Albus an annoyance, yes, but he did not consider Dumbledore dangerous. He understood Albus was weakening; age was eating away at the mind of the once all-powerful wizard.

Albus was the reason Sirius Black was dead (not that Severus cared for the man, but Black did have his uses). He trapped the wild, volatile man that was Sirius into a dark house that contained painful memories for the animugus. If Sirius had been allowed to go out, he would have stayed sharp; he would not have let his cousin slay him. But Albus, poor, senile Albus, let paranoia fill him and imprisoned Sirius in the Black mansion until Sirius almost burst.

Albus was the reason the ministry denied Voldemort's return for so long. He overestimated his influence and came out with the truth too soon. He let major newspapers, namely the Daily Prophet, badmouth Harry Potter until almost the entire wizard society believed the Boy Who Lived was just as crazy as old Dumbledore appeared to be.

The most prominent reason of all though, was that Harry Potter was James Potter's son. They both thought alike. And both of them would only succeed at something they didn't enjoy doing if they were... "inspired" to excel. That is why Severus had harassed Harry constantly in class for the last six years. The only way he would succeed at something he didn't like–like potions–was to be goaded, to have to prove that he was good. That he could succeed.

The only way that Harry would have ever gone out to destroy the remaining horocruxes, and ultimately kill Voldemort, was to get him angry. And killing Albus Dumbledore, a man Harry trusted and loved, would do that.

_Why do I feel such agonizing regret? _Severus wondered, half angry at himself. _I never liked Albus. He never respected me, not my entire time at Hogwarts. He didn't respect any Slytherins. When Sirius almost killed me, not only did he get off without punishment but Albus reprimanded me for "sticking my _nose_ in places it didn't belong". He stole my Merlin degree when he let Sirius escape. He…_

"He trusted me," Severus breathed. That is why he felt pain. Albus Dumbledore had trusted him, despite the cautions he had gotten against Severus. Albus trusted Severus loyally like no one ever had.

Severus' life had been one misery to the next. An alcoholic father who beat his wife and child; a weak mother who foolishly believed her husband would love her again and was helpless to protect her young son; countless tormenters who made his teenage years more miserable then even his parents could. He worked hard in school and his teachers acknowledged his abilities, but they loved Sirius and James, not him. They loved Sirius and James because they were charming and funny, even though Severus was far more powerful.

_I could have killed them, _Severus thought bitterly. _I could have killed them so many times. I could have used my beloved dark magic against them, torn up their flesh and let them bleed to death. But I had morals. I would not let the lure of power corrupt me as it had corrupted countless others. Dark magic is only evil if used in evil ways. And I was determined not to be evil._

So Severus let them torment him. Let them use spell after spell after spell, let them laugh at him. He pretended he didn't care. Denied even to himself that their cruelty affected him. He learned to hide his emotions, put on an emotionless mask whenever they laughed–and sometimes even teachers laughed–to make them believe it didn't bug him. He'd say, "Piss off" and stubbornly ignore them.

"It doesn't hurt me," that's what he told himself.

"It doesn't hurt."

"They _don't matter_."

"They can't hurt me."

"It doesn't hurt."

But it did hurt. It hurt worse then a dagger in the chest, worse then any flame. It cut at Severus' soul, tearing him apart. And when, finally, he escaped them–his fellow students, his teachers, all of them–he felt enormous relief. He lived alone for a while, relishing the quiet and selling potions to get by. For the first time in his young life, Severus Snape was happy.

But something was missing.

Severus craved friendship, craved respect, craved trust. He did have friendship once, what felt like ages ago, but Sirius had taken care of that with the Prank. Remembering that friend, that confusing yet addicting _love_, made his solitude only so much more terrible.

Humans aren't made to live alone. Humans need other humans to survive, to keep their grasp on sanity. Even if his sole contacts were tormenters it was better then the horrible silence he had trapped himself in.

Severus dreamed of going back into the world, attempting to find companionship. Though he told himself he would not find any, that he was destined to live alone, deep down he hoped someone would find him. Someone he could be a friend to, to have someone to talk to. Someone he could _trust_.

But that would never happen. No, it could not. Who would want someone like Severus Snape?

Tom Riddle, a Slytherin like Severus, came up to Severus' home one day, surprising the potions master immensely. Riddle had heard of Severus' unmatched talent for potions and wished to recruit Severus as a "Death Eater".

"'_Death Eater'?" Severus repeated skeptically. "A bit tacky, don't you think?"_

_Riddle laughed heartily. It was a nice sound, deep and musical. _Much like James' laugh,_ Severus noted with disgust. "Yes, I suppose. I just want people to get the impression we won't take shit from anyone."_

"_What would I do as a 'Death Eater'?" Severus inquired facetiously. "And please don't say I'll have to go around to peoples' houses dressed in a long black cloak with a scythe."_

_Riddle laughed again. "No, nothing like that. As I said before, you have exceptional talent when it comes to potions…"_

"_Not just potions," Severus interrupted. He twirled his wand around with long fingers, a haughty smirk forming on his face. "My forte is most definitely potions, and it is my passion as well, but I am talented elsewhere as well."_

_Riddle cocked an eyebrow. "The dark arts?"_

"_People call them dark arts only because they fear them, just as they fear the dark," Severus said, his smirk widening. "No one need fear the dark arts, though fearing the users of such magicks is often rational."_

"_Yes," Riddle breathed, his voice now coming out almost as a hiss. "Fear of magic itself is stupid. Fear of wizards though…" He smiled broadly. "That is amazing. To be feared is to be powerful."_

_Severus felt a shiver run down his spine from the look in Riddle's eyes. He looked _evil

_A heavy silence fell between them, and Severus felt uncomfortable. He briefly entertained the idea of asking the frightening man to leave when Riddle spoke once more. _

"_Your talents would be put to good use with us," Riddle tempted. "You're wasted with what you do now. As a Death Eater you would be able to experiment, to learn, to grow. You would get the respect you deserved."_

_Severus was going to refuse, but the word "respect" had struck home. He was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. _

_Riddle smiled. At first it looked like a smirk, but Severus decided that he had just misread Riddle's expression. "Good. We leave at once."_

My whole life changed that day, Severus thought, subconsciously stroking the dark mark that burned on his forearm. _How pathetically ignorant I was. I always thought Riddle, as we called him then, was my friend. That he cared._ Severus tried laughing but it sounded more like a hoarse bark. _I was so naive._

Riddle hadn't lied when he told Severus he would experiment, learn and grow. He did. In his first year as a Death Eater Severus patented nine potions under the guidance of Riddle. He loved the sense of accomplishment, the feeling of pride he got from his work.

Even better, he had friends. He had bonded with his fellow death eaters, especially Narcissa and Bellatrix (for all they were the cousins of his enemy, Sirius Black) and Lucius. He was also quite close to Riddle, more close then he had been to with anyone in his life, or so he thought.

He had his potions, and he had friends who he trusted not to hurt him. Everything seemed perfect. He was truly happy.

Then he-they-started noticing changes in Riddle's appearance. He grew paler, and his eyes grew red and bloodshot. His nose started to sink into his face and his voice became harsh. He often hissed on his "S"s, like a snake.

That's when it happened. The worst day of Severus' young life.

"_Everything changes tonight," Riddle announced to the Death Eaters. They were clad in heavy black robes and wore strange, faceless white masks. Though no one understood it, they were loyal to Riddle and would follow him no matter what. "Everything will be taken to a new level. First of all, you will no longer address me by my former name, but by Voldemort. Lord Voldemort."_

_There were murmurs from the death eaters, but Severus was silent. He understood why Riddle--Voldemort--had forsaken his father's name. His _muggle_ father's name._

_Severus alone knew of Voldemort's secret heritage, of the muggle blood flowing in his veins. Voldemort too was the only person Severus had ever told of his heritage. Why he took on the name "Halfblood Prince" when he wrote in his diary. He knew the disgust ans self-loathing that came with muggle blood, and why Voldemort would want to forsake anything that would tie him to his muggle father._

"_Tonight, we are going on our first hunt." Voldemort's snake like eyes darted back and forth among his followers, making sure all were completely loyal. "Tonight, filthy mudbloods will scream and flee our power, but we will hunt them down and kill!"_

_Severus balked. He knew Voldemort hated muggles, and that he would torment them magically every now and them, but killing? "Voldemort?" Severus asked._

"Lord_ Voldemort," Voldemort snarled. "Or master."_

Master? What is he playing at?_ "_Lord_ Voldemort, do you truly mean to _kill_ muggles?"_

_Voldemort smiled his evil smile. "Yes," he said, his hissing lisp causing the "S" to roll out. "And everyone of you will kill at least one as well." He took out his wand, his smile disappearing, replaced by a cruel, hating grimace. "On pain of death."_

_A man to Severus' left, McGowan, fidgeted nervously. "You don't really mean that, do you, Tom…"_

"_AVADA KADAVRA!"_

_There was a green flash and a shriek. Then a thud, like something heavy hitting the ground. When his vision cleared of light spots, and Severus could see, he nearly vomited with disgust. McGowan lay on the floor, his eyes wide and his mouth gaping. He was dead._

_Voldemort was trembling with fury. "If anyone calls me by my former name again, I will kill him instantly," he hissed. Slowly he straightened and took a few deep breaths. The shaking slowed then stopped. "We leave now," Voldemort snarled. "Severus!"_

_Severus felt fear, and fury, fill him as he gazed at the monster he once had considered a friend. But he had learned from Hogwarts that showing emotions will let others take advantage of you, and his face was emotionless and his voice was calm when he replied. "Yes, Master?"_

"_You will come with me. I want to see your first kill myself."_

_Severus bowed, keeping his gaze on the floor. He didn't want Voldemort to see the rage that burned in his eyes as he fought to build a wall in his mind. Such overwhelming rage- rage of Voldemort's treachery, rage of McGowan's death, rage of being helpless. Rage at being Voldemort's slave. "Yes Master."_

"My first kill," Severus breathed. He shuddered at the memory. It had been a child, a young boy. He had felt like his father, hurting a defenseless little boy. Except he was even worse then his mother. She had never killed anyone.

_The guilt I felt that night, the guilt I still feel, that is what separated me from them. They did not feel guilt. They enjoyed it, _Severus thought. _But I wonder… how long would I have held on to myself if I hadn't gone to Albus? How long would I have been able to resist the bloodlust they all shared?_

Albus. Albus had saved him, without a doubt. Saved him from the blind hate of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

"_Come in."_

_Severus paused, building up his courage, then opened the door. He walked into the room and sat down in front of Albus' desk. _

_Albus smiled warmly at him. "Hello Severus. It's been a while." Severus nodded but didn't say anything. After an awkward silence, Albus tried again. "You look flushed, and your eyes are red… have you been getting enough sleep?" Again, a pause. "Severus? Are you alright?"_

_Severus took in a deep rasping breath. It had been hard for him to breath lately. He was always sick, and his horrendous lack of sleep worsened his diseases. But Voldemort didn't care. Voldemort didn't care about anything anymore. _

"_Severus?"_

"_I'm a Death Eater," Severus said bluntly. He fought to keep his sleep-deprived body from trembling. "I have killed. Countless times. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of all of it. I've come to you, because I know you are wise. I need help."_

_Albus stared at him for many long moments. It seemed as if time itself stood still. Severus waited for Albus to do something. To strike him. To curse him. To shake his head and say "I knew it. I knew you would become one. All Slytherins are alike." His fever burned at his body and a headache that had been his constant companion for many weeks now assaulted his head. Something needed to happen. _Anything. _Something to break the silence that tore at him._

_But Albus remained still, almost unblinking._

"_Say something, damn it!" Severus screamed. He realized, to his shame, there were tears running down his cheeks. "Do something! Anything!" He closed his eyes as uncontrollable spasms shook his body. "Kill me, please. I deserve death and worse."_

_Severus felt arms wrap around him. "No, Severus," Albus whispered. The old man was crying too. "I will not kill you. No one deserves death."_

"_Even Voldemort?" Severus asked hoarsely._

_Albus paused. "Maybe him. But not you."_

_More tears rolled down his cheeks, but despite them he felt a sense of great relief. He was ill, very ill, and he was Voldemort's slave. _

_But Albus had given him hope._

_Hope. That was something Severus had not felt for a long time. It felt good, like the first warm breeze of Spring after a seemingly endless Winter. _

I can do this, _Severus thought. _I can do this. I know I can.

"_Thank you," Severus whispered._

"_For what?" Albus asked._

_Severus smiled slightly, making his chapped lips split and bleed, and let his bloodshot eyes close. "For giving me hope."_

Albus suggested Severus be a spy, and Severus readily agreed. And he worked, with the Order of the Pheonix, until Voldemort was defeated. And then Albus gave him a job as a potions teacher, gave him hope for the future. And though he held past grudges for Albus' lack of respect for Slytherins, Albus still gave him life again.

It was a happy life, and not the tainted life he had as a Death Eater, but pure and solid. He grew comfortable, he grew content, he was in control. He didn't have to fear anymore.

That is why Severus was sad. That is why he hated himself, more then ever, for killing Albus.

The door opened suddenly and the dark lord Voldemort swept in. "I wish to speak with you, Severus," the snake-like man hissed.

Severus quickly put a barrier around his mind to protect himself from Voldemort's Legimency. Such thoughts were dangerous, they could not be known by anyone else.

Severus dropped to the floor quickly and crawled to Voldemort's feet, but to his surprise Voldemort hissed and kicked him in the stomach, forcing Severus to sit up. _What did I do? _Severus thought fearfully, though well behind the protection of his Occulmency. _Does he know? _

But Voldemort did not lash out Severus again; instead, he smiled slightly and took Severus' face in his hands and forced the potions master to meet his snake-like eyes. Severus withheld a shudder at Voldemort's touch and gaze. "Do not grovel, for you have served me well," Voldemort told his "follower", obviously pleased. "I will admit, I had doubts before... but you have proved yourself. You have my utmost trust."

Trust. That is all Severus had ever wanted. But he had wanted it from different people, not this homicidal maniac.

Still, trust of any kind can prove useful, and especially so from Voldemort.

"Thank you, Master," Severus whispered humbly. "I will not forget."

Voldemort nodded. "Get some rest. You deserve a holiday." He smiled his evil smile, and left.

Severus got back on the bed and clenched his fists, slowly calming himself so he wouldn't throw something. _He thinks I am nothing more than a slave, _Severus thought furiously. _Harry Potter, you _will_ kill him. The death of Albus Dumbledore will not be useless. I will use Voldemort's trust to destroy him. I hate you, Harry Potter, but I hate Voldemort more. He is evil, and must be annihilated._

The Boy Who Lived will triumph!


End file.
